Page 34 of Grim’s Angel

“I understand.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m sure.” Her fingers tighten in my hair. “I want you.”

Control becomes a thin, fraying thing.

I roll onto my back and bring her over me so my wounded shoulder stays protected. The blanket falls away, leaving her in the pale-blue camisole with her bare pussy pressed against the ridge of my cock beneath my sweats.

Her eyes widen when she feels how hard I am.

“That is what you do to me,” I say. “I have been trying to hide it since you tended my wound at the station.”

She rocks experimentally. The wet heat of her slides along my shaft through the fabric, and control tears loose inside me.

“Again.”

She obeys, watching my face as her hips move. My hands tighten around her waist. I could take over, but the wonder in her expression matters more than relief.

“You like that,” she whispers.

“I like you learning that you can make me lose my mind.”

She reaches for the hem of her top. I cover her hands with mine long enough to search her eyes, then help her pull the camisole over her head.

Her breasts spill free, full and soft, her nipples already tight. She starts to cover herself, but I close my hands around hers.

“Let me see the woman who has haunted every thought I possess since I first laid eyes on her.”

The uncertainty leaves her. I release her hands and fill my palms with her breasts, rubbing my thumbs over the sensitive peaks until she arches into me.

I draw one nipple into my mouth and suck.

Her hips grind harder against my cock.

“Grim.”

I could live inside the sound of my name spoken like that.

She slides her fingers beneath the waistband of my sweats. Her touch shakes, but she does not retreat when she finds my cock.

I lift my hips and push the fabric down. My shaft springs against my stomach, thick, hard, and wet at the tip.

McKenna stares.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“That the human body should come with more practical size limits.”

Her humor cannot hide the nerves. I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke once, showing her the pressure I like.

Her hand replaces mine.

The first glide of her palm nearly ends me. She explores with careful strokes, spreading the bead of precum over the broad head with her thumb. My hips lift into her fist before I can stop them.

“Like that?”

“Exactly like that.”